“And did you get to see another one that year?” Noah asked.
“Nah. We didn’t know what we were doing. Chasing is an art. It takes skill. You have to understand how to read radar and know the signs. We were amateurs. You can’t jump in cold and expect results. Hell, even if you know what you’re doing, you don’t always get a positive outcome. Mother Nature doesn’t play by the rules. She keeps you guessing. But I’m not a quitter, and here we are.”
Since our stories were so closely entwined, Vern took over the hot spot. Our first successful chase was technically his first encounter. I gave him the battered couch and went to see how Elliott was making out.
It had been a week since our first chase of the season. We might not have witnessed a tornado, but we’d gotten pretty close. CineVision was over the moon with all the footage we’d submitted. Charles had found my number and had been texting regularly. Our rescue mission had won points. It was no secret that the guy wanted Twisted Fates for his show. So, when he offered tips and hints to keep us on top, we listened. Hence, the interviews depicting our first encounters.
“We should head there soon,” Elliott said as I leaned over his shoulder to view the screen. “This system has been building to a crescendo all week. I like it for Thursday afternoon or early evening. Watch.”
I took in the progression as it clicked through time on the radar. Elliott was right.
“We’ll discuss it once Noah finishes the interviews. I’m all about a road trip.” Anything to get me away from home for a few days.
My pocket buzzed with an incoming call. If my mother was phoning, she was ten seconds from sending Sheriff Barclay to find me. Sighing heavily—I’d been dancing around her all week—I withdrew the device and made my way to the open garage door for privacy.
Her recent episode had yet to dissolve. Avoidance was the wrong tactic. The less attention I paid her, the worse she got.
I was about to tap the screen to accept the call, but the name on the display gave me pause. It wasn’t my mother. It was Olivia Windrow.
Why was she calling? Better question. How the fuck did she get my number? It was a little late for a lecture about rescuing her brother. If she was going to bitch about that, I expected she would have done it by now. It had been five days.
Before the call rolled to voicemail, I tapped to accept. “Yeah.”
“I hear you have a crush on me, Devereaux.”
I nearly choked on my spit as I laughed. “Fucking Vern.”
I yelled loud enough that my best friend shouted from the garage. “What did I do?”
“You wish, Windrow. You’re not my type.”
“Good. The feeling is mutual. Are you tracking the system out in Kansas?”
“Obviously, but since I don’t collude with the enemy—”
“Shut up. Did you steal my brother?”
“Did I—” I was getting whiplash. “What? Did I steal your brother? When? Last week? No, IrescuedGale from—”
“Not last week. Right now. This week.”
“Huh? I’m confused.”
Olivia went silent before muttering, “Never mind. It was far-fetched.”
“What are you talking about? Can you speak English?”
“What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Last week. When you and your crew absconded with him. He was upset after. What did you do?”
“I didn’t upset him. Why are you attacking me?”
“Because he’s gone, and I can’t help thinking you’re responsible. Dad said he took off the day after you brought him home, and he hasn’t been back since. Sometimes, he goes away for a day or two. That’s normal. But not five, and not without keeping in contact with someone. He isn’t answering his phone, and Dad said he had a rough night before he left. What was he upset about, Ozrik? You and your shithead friends were the last people with him. I swear to God, I will kick your fucking ass from here to Kansas if you hurt him.”
“Excuse me? Back the fuck down. We didn’t do anything. We pulled him to safety. If your brother is pissed, it’s probably at you for forcing him to join your team and dragging him out there to begin when it’s so obvious he doesn’t want to be there. Then,then, you abandoned him.”
